Ere I Say I Do
by Gedia Kacela
Summary: After Dumbledore’s death, Snape leaves the magical world, swearing to never return. But when Voldemort rises once more, can he resist the dark power that once drew him? (Chapter Six Up!) *In Progress*
1. Prologue

Ere I Say I Do  
  
Disclaimer: If Snape is ever up for sale, I'm digging out my life savings. Until then, I don't own much.  
  
Author's Note: Yes, yes, another Snape fic. I can be rather single-minded, can I not? After Dumbledore's death, Snape leaves the magical world, swearing to never return. But when Voldemort rises once more, can he stay away? Dedicated to Kate, my fellow MELHS Alan Rickman 'fangirl.'  
  
***  
  
Prologue  
  
Minerva McGonagall stared solemnly up at the tall, thin figure that stood before her desk. "Are you positive of your decision, Professor?"  
  
He nodded. "Absolutely, Minerva. I cannot stay any longer." He paused, glancing out the window behind the desk. The sun shone merrily through the sparse clouds, in dire contrast to his stormy mood. "I promised Albus when I came back that I would stay as long as he was here. It was my penance for the things I had done, the lives I had taken... a way to show my gratitude to him. But, Albus is..." his voice quavered uncharacteristically for a moment before he regained control of it. "He's... gone now and there is no reason for me to remain."  
  
"But what about the children, the school? We need you now, during these dark times."  
  
He shook his head, cutting her off. "No, you do not need me. Voldemort is gone now, the school is safe." What good would he do to the students? They hated him still, always would. They needed someone they could turn to, not someone to take points from their houses for ruining potions with their tears.  
  
She sighed, clasping her small, thin hands together. "I understand and accept your resignation." With those words, he turned and made his way to the door, his dark robes billowing behind him. "But where will you go?"  
  
He paused, glancing back at her. "I don't know yet."  
  
They maintained eye contact for a few seconds before she stood and turned away from him, gazing out the window. "You will find your way, Severus. You always have."  
  
"Thank you." The words were soft and low, but she heard them before the sound of the door closing covered them.  
  
He strode from the room, his head held high. After all, he was not the type to betray his emotions. He never had been. But if he were, he might have collapsed against the wall, tears streaking his pale face in regret and guilt. He might have pounded the wall with his stony fist, swearing with an intensity that he seldom knew.  
  
But he kept walking. Ignoring the stares directed at him and the whispers that swirled about, he made his way down the stairs and outside, where the cold air struck him as hard as the all-too-clear reality of his situation.  
  
Voldemort was dead, which was something he should rejoice over, were he the type to rejoice. He was dead, but so was Albus Dumbledore. Albus had died to save that damn Potter, which was a fact Snape could not begin to forgive, despite the fact that Albus had taken Voldemort to the grave with him.  
  
He couldn't bring himself to stay in this place. He had fulfilled his promise to Albus. No more was expected of him. Hogwarts would find another Potions professor, just as they would find another headmaster. A pang shot through him. He hadn't imagined he'd see the day when there would be a different headmaster. Albus Dumbledore had seemed so... constant. He had actually let himself believe that the old wizard would always be there, like some childhood folly.  
  
A bitter laugh escaped his lips, and he gathered his cloak more tightly about himself. The winter wind whipped around him, howling mournfully. But in his mind, he only heard the screams of the dead.  
  
He shook his head violently, trying to dispel the horrid memories that threatened to once again overwhelm him. He had to get out of here, or his memories would drive him insane. His pace quickened.  
  
Minerva watched the speck of black move steadily across the courtyard to the gates. Severus Snape had been a loyal professor, ever since his return from the darker side of magic. She shuddered to think of the terrible deeds he had done. But that life was behind him, at least physically. She knew, as did any other professor, that his past still haunted him.  
  
"God speed," she whispered softly. It was a Muggle phrase, she knew, but still, she felt its purpose was never more direly needed. "God speed," she repeated, watching as yet another Hogwarts professor disappeared from her life. Somehow, she knew she would not see him again.  
  
END PROLOGUE 


	2. Chapter One

Chapter One  
  
Author's Note: Dedicated to Storm, cause she's so darn impatient!  
  
***  
  
For the fifth time that night, Severus Snape paced his bedroom. What he wouldn't give for a Sleeping Potion right now. He brushed back his slick hair from his forehead. He would sell his soul for just one sip. But he hadn't seen a single potion in three years. Three damn long years. One would think he would grow used to the lack of magic. But he hadn't... not quite.  
  
He had been living among the Muggles for the entirety of the three years that had passed since he had left Hogwarts. It was winter once again, and snow was blowing softly against his window. It reminded him of his last minutes at Hogwarts. So many memories were held in that place. Memories of his years as a teacher, and even of himself as a student, sullen and brooding.  
  
He passed a mirror and caught a glance at his frowning face. His long hair fell in sharp contrast to the white bedshirt he wore, and his arms crossed across his broad chest. A chuckle almost escaped his lips. Not much had changed, that much was apparent.  
  
Pale light from the dimly lit moon cascaded through the window, softly illuminating the woman who lay across the bed. At the sight of her peaceful form, he smiled, something he had been doing more and more often.  
  
It was a strange thing to be happy, to be accepted... to be loved. And admittedly, he loved her back. Why else would he, Severus Snape of all people, have asked her to wear the diamond ring that now adorned her left hand?  
  
She was so beautiful... he still couldn't quite believe that she was his, that she had given herself willingly to him. Sometimes as she slept, he still had to touch her face to be sure she was not a mere hallucination, to be certain that the love they had just made had been as tangible as he thought it was.  
  
He pushed away the memories of his past and turned instead to those of the present and future, those of Alexia. He crawled back beneath the covers, pressing a gentle kiss to the nape of her neck. The flowery scent of her auburn hair tickled his nose and he smiled into her skin.  
  
She stirred, turning slightly to regard him. "Still can't sleep, love?" Her gentle hand came up to caress his jawline, playing with his hair.  
  
He turned his head to kiss her palm. "I don't know why."  
  
A knowing smile slid across her face. "It's tomorrow, Severus. You should be nervous."  
  
"I'm not nervous, love, I'm not. I just... can't shake this feeling I have." He knew she didn't understand. How could she when he himself did not know why he felt so uneasy? Something was amiss somewhere, but what it was he didn't know.  
  
"Well, whatever it is, you need your sleep."  
  
He raised an eyebrow suggestively. "And what if I do not want to sleep?"  
  
The smile on her face grew as she tangled her hand in his hair, pulling him in for a deep, warm kiss. "Then I suppose we could occupy ourselves in some other way."  
  
"That would be..." he tugged at her lip with his teeth, "delightful." Within minutes, they fell into their passion, lost in each other's eyes and bodies, limbs entangled in a mess of sheets. They fell asleep still tangled in each other, waiting for the morning which would make them husband and wife for the rest of their days.  
  
But first, they must make it through the night.  
  
***  
  
A few hours later, a sharp burning shot up Severus' left arm, focusing around the damned Mark. Snape let out a muffled cry, biting down hard on his lip against the pain. He rolled from the bed, landing hard on the wooden floor as he clutched at his arm, willing to do anything to get rid of the horrid burning.  
  
A drop of blood blossomed on his lip from where he bit, tainting his tongue with the coppery taste. Once he was able to stand the pain, he opened his eyes and stared down in horror at his arm.  
  
After Voldemort's death, the Dark Mark had faded until it was barely visible. It was still there, a constant reminder of his past sins, but it was no longer the deep black it had been. But now, as he looked at it, it had flourished to a livid raven-black, rising slightly from his skin and burning fiercely, as fresh as it had been the day he had been Branded.  
  
The information refused to register in his brain. Voldemort was... "Dead," he whispered, as if the words would become reality. "He is dead. I saw him." Tom Riddle, what was left of the actual man, had died beside Albus three years ago. Hundreds had been witness to it.  
  
But if Voldemort was dead... why was his arm burning? Only the Dark Lord could call him. None of his followers had the power or ability.  
  
He shook his head frantically, violently. "No... no... He's dead..." Scrambling to his feet, he ran from the room after wrapping a robe around his slim form, dizzy with pain and confusion.  
  
He could not be called... he had given up that life. Three years ago he had left the wizarding world forever. It was no longer a part of him.  
  
And yet, it was always a part of him, always haunting him from the eyes of that horrid black skull. Alexia had always wondered about the Mark... he had told her that it was a tattoo, something stupid that he had done in younger days. In part, it was the truth. But she was a mere Muggle... he could not have told her the entire truth. She couldn't, wouldn't, understand.  
  
He tore through the house, frantic from the pain, dashing up the stairs to the attic and climbing through the trapdoor to the musty space between ceiling and roof. There were hidden his secrets... the only reminders from his life as a wizard, the only proof that he had ever been Potions Professor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.  
  
He had wanted to destroy it all, to burn every last part of that life. But something had prevented him from thrusting cloak, wand, and potions books into the inferno that blazed in the fireplace. Somehow, he had known all along that it was not truly over.  
  
Would it ever be?  
  
All he had wanted was to escape... to run away and leave his miserable life behind him and be free to start over. And he had. He had found love, acceptance, happiness... all the things that he had always thought had been denied him. He had found his world, his Alexia. He was going to be married that morning, for Merlin's sake!  
  
He should have known that it had been all too easy.  
  
Slowly, he picked up the locked trunk that lay buried beneath boxes and layers of dust. What lay inside was his past, the past that had finally caught up with him. But for the life of him, he did not want to confront it again.  
  
But still his shaky hand reached for the lock. He couldn't run away any longer.  
  
END CHAPTER ONE 


	3. Chapter Two

Chapter Two  
  
***  
  
He couldn't do it. He couldn't open that box. To open it would be to give up on the past three years, to go back to his life at Hogwarts, to his past as a Death Eater. Here, at least, he was free from that. People didn't know him as that. He was simply another person, living from one day to the next without a speck of magic and about to marry the best thing that had ever happened to him.  
  
His fist gripped the lock. He couldn't. He would just ignore the call, ignore the burning, and go back to bed. Voldemort would never find him here, not in a thousand years. The Dark Lord would never dream of looking for Snape here, living as a ridiculous Muggle.  
  
He breathed a sigh of relief. That was it. He would go back to bed and tomorrow, he would wake up just like he had done for the past three years, with coffee instead of Pepperup Potions. He would kiss Alexia good morning and open the daily paper. He would read about the sports and peruse the stock market updates. Then he would put on a tuxedo, drive to the church, and be married.  
  
It was that simple.  
  
He would be married, and he would put away all memories of Hogwarts and magic and Dumbledore and Potter and most especially, of Voldemort. They would not exist to him anymore. It was not of his concern. Let them all deal with Voldemort. They had done just fine before without him.  
  
'But back then,' came the annoying little voice in his head, 'they had Albus.'  
  
Albus. He had made all the difference in the world, as eccentric as the old Headmaster may have been, always complaining about socks and such.  
  
His nails dug into the wooden trunk. Merlin, what he wouldn't give to be able to hear Dumbledore complain about his bloody socks once again... the memories would drive him mad.  
  
His eyes widened. The memories... that was it. That was the key to it all. He would perform a Memory Charm on himself and make himself forget it all. Then he could truly live a normal life, a life without magic, without memories. A perfect life, in his mind.  
  
Content with his decision, he tugged at the lock, for the first time realizing that he didn't have the key. "Dammit, open!" He needed his wand, if only for one last time. "Come on..." He tugged again, to no avail, and finally thrust the small trunk against the wall with all his might. Not even a splinter came off. "Bloody hell."  
  
"Severus!"  
  
He whirled to see Alexia leaning against the floor, still halfway on the stairs. She was frowning. He cringed, realizing too late that he'd been a bit... noisy. "Sorry..."  
  
"Sorry? I think I need a bit more explanation than that for why you're up here in the middle of the night causing enough noise to wake the neighborhood." Her tone was severe, but her eyes still sparkled at him.  
  
He glanced at the trunk lying against the wall. "It's... difficult to explain."  
  
She climbed up the remainder of the stairs and sat down by him, reaching out a slim hand to lay on his knee. "Try me."  
  
He gave a soft smile. "Really, you don't want to know." Leaning forward, he kissed her gently. "Trust me."  
  
"I do. But tell me anyway." He shook his head. "Severus, I'm going to be your wife tomorrow. That means no secrets between us. Now, there has to be some reason for all of this. Please, love... tell me."  
  
The ex-wizard fell silent for at least a minute, staring at the trunk. What could he say to her that could possibly make her understand? "I am not quite sure how to explain, at least with mere words." He stood and picked up the trunk. "I need the key to this trunk... then I can at least show you." He leaned back against the wall, sliding down it to a seated position, not trusting his legs to keep him upright. "The key is in the drawer of the nightstand."  
  
Without a word, she turned and disappeared down the stairs. A few minutes later, she was back, holding an antique key in her hand. She held it out to him. "Is this it?"  
  
Slowly, he nodded, reaching out to take the key from her. The metal, cold as it was, seemed to burn his hand with magic that had been lying dormant in it for so long. But he forced himself to hold onto it as he stared at the trunk on his lap.  
  
She knelt on the floor next to him, resting her pretty head on his shoulder. "What's wrong, Severus? Tell me, please. I want to help."  
  
He shook his head, bracing himself as he felt his Mark begin to burn again. "You can't help me... no one can."  
  
Within seconds, he was lost to the pain.  
  
END CHAPTER TWO 


	4. Chapter Three

Chapter Three  
  
Author's Note: //'s imply flashbacks, dreams, memories... whatever applies. I'm starting to not like this fic much... I was so excited about it at first... but now... eh, not so much. But I'll keep going on it as long as my muse allows me.  
  
***  
  
// He had forgotten what it had been like to be happy. Perhaps the last time had been as a child, on his birthday or some other holiday. But then his happiness had come from innocence to the ways of the world. He could not go back to that, and so had thought that he would never be happy again.  
  
But then he saw her.  
  
She was certainly no raving beauty, the kind that men stopped and stared at on the street even when she had a bad hair day. But she was certainly beautiful, with an irresistible allure that drew him to her immediately.  
  
He had been at a restaurant, eating by himself in the furthest corner. His eyes had followed her around the restaurant to a table near his. Quietly sipping from the coffee cup held carefully in his long fingers, he studied her.  
  
She hadn't noticed his fixed stare for quite awhile, as she herself was absorbed in a book- Jane Austen's 'Sense and Sensibility,' he believed- and turned her eyes away from the pages only to make sure that she set her tea down on the table without knocking it over. He found it amazing how she could concentrate so intently, even with the commotion of the coffeehouse going on around her.  
  
It took him even longer to realize that she had noticed him, that her piercing blue eyes were fastened on his black ones with coy interest. When he did notice, he nearly choked on his coffee. She smiled bemusedly before flipping the page and going back to her book.  
  
A few more minutes passed, as he watched each page she turned out of the corner of his eye, before he convinced himself to rise from his seat and approach her table. He lowered himself into the chair across from her and set down his coffee cup. She glanced up at him over the top of her book. "Hey."  
  
He cleared his throat. "Hello."  
  
She placed a bookmark in the volume and set it down in front of her. "My name's Alexia Johnson."  
  
He had to resist a smile. The girl was just forward enough to suit him. "Severus Snape."  
  
She took a long drink of tea, her eyes sparkling at him all the while. "Pleasure to meet you, Severus."  
  
Those eyes were what drew him the most. They held a vastness of intelligence, emotion, and warmth. Strangely enough, at he regarded her smiling eyes he felt for the first time in a very, very long time... happy. He allowed himself to return the smile. "Likewise." //  
  
Screams tore at his ears, pained, horrible screams. Faces of the dead flashed across his vision, leering at him, screaming accusations. The burning in his arm spread to his whole body, setting it aflame. He writhed against the sensation, moaning softly for it to stop. He wasn't sure if he were awake or dreaming, alive or being tortured in some twisted hell. He clawed blindly at the Mark, wanting nothing but to rip it from his skin.  
  
"Severus." The voice came softly, sweet to his tortured ears. Her touch followed it, cooling his burning skin where her fingers lay. He felt his body instinctively relax beneath her soothing presence. The burning, while it didn't cease, contented itself to focus on his arm alone, giving up its control of his mind.  
  
"Severus?" came her voice again, concerned and anxious.  
  
He reached out for her, capturing her hand in his and holding onto it. "I'm sorry," he whispered, opening his eyes to gaze at her.  
  
"For what?"  
  
"For everything." He pulled himself into a sitting position, leaning heavily against the wall. She kneeled next to him, brow knitted in concern. His eyes met hers. He had to tell her the truth, no matter how much his mind screamed at him not to. "I have not been entirely truthful to you, Alexia."  
  
He saw the fear that flashed across her eyes. He could almost read her thoughts. Apprehensions of his loyalty, love, and devotion all assaulted her with his words. "What... what do you mean?"  
  
"It has nothing to do with you, trust me. It is about me... well, who I am." His eyes fell. "What I have to say may sound... unlikely, to say the least. But you must believe me, Alexia." She didn't say anything, but gave a slow nod. He reached again for the trunk, drawing it onto his lap and inserting the key. He could feel tiny wisps of magic escape through the keyhole, as if the contents had been locked up for too long and were desperate to escape. Slowly, he opened the trunk and stared at the contents.  
  
All were exactly as he had left them, screaming the plain facts of his past to him. "Alexia... I am a..." he touched his wand, and his fingers curled instinctively around it, "a wizard."  
  
Her lips parted slightly and her brow furrowed more. He didn't blame her for her shock. If their roles were switched, he would have felt the same. "Severus, I..."  
  
"Shh, don't speak. I know, it sounds like I've turned into a... how do you say it... nutcase, but I haven't. As much as I want to forget it, magical blood runs in my veins." He almost smiled at her look of utter disbelief. Poor thing... she didn't deserve this. Not on the night before she was to be married. "You don't believe me."  
  
"It's not that-"  
  
He held up a hand. "Yes it is. But look." He raised his wand, pointing it at his hand. "Orchideous." A great bouquet of fragrant flowers bloomed from the tip of his wand. He gathered them in his hand and offered them to her with a crooked smile. "For you."  
  
She stared blankly at the flowers for a minute before hesitatingly accepting the gift. "Thank you... but... um, how?"  
  
He had to smile. In fact, he wanted to laugh, to let loose and roar with deep laughter at the absurdity of the whole situation. But he contented himself with a smile. "Magic, love, magic." She looked as if she wanted to respond, but thought better and sat back on her heels with an unreadable expression. "I suppose you want more explanation then that, correct?" He gestured to his wand. "This is my wand. I have had it since I was a mere child and it was far too big for me. Without it, my magical abilities are greatly reduced." Now for the real shocker. "And this," he rolled up his sleeve to display the vivid black Mark, "is no tattoo."  
  
She reached out to touch it. "What happened to it? It's... different."  
  
"When I was young... very young and very stupid, I might add, I joined forces with a man called Tom Riddle. He was a dark wizard who called himself Lord Voldemort. I thought that if I sided with him, I would be powerful and indestructible. I thought I would find wealth and respect. But..."  
  
"You didn't," she finished for him.  
  
"Precisely. I found death and lies and pain... not exactly what I was looking for." He covered up the Mark and focused on her. "So I became a spy for a man named Albus Dumbledore, a double-agent. A few years later, Voldemort died... or at least, came very close to it. But the creature wasn't truly dead. He came back to power and started the second war, a war that ended when both he and Dumbledore were sent to the grave. But now..." he trailed off, staring at where his Brand lurked beneath a guise of thin material.  
  
"He's come back?"  
  
"I believe so." His voice was a whisper, the sound barely audible in the small attic.  
  
Her eyes searched his. "But what does that mean?"  
  
"I do not know. But he wants me back, at least I'm assuming so due to his persistence in calling me. He knows I am a traitor to the Cause, which means he will kill me on sight." He stared off into space for a minute. "But I have to go back. Not to him... but to Hogwarts."  
  
Her voice was timid now, more so than he had ever heard it. "Tonight." He nodded regretfully. "Can I come with you?"  
  
He drew her close, wrapping her thin frame in his warmth. "No, Alexia. It's far too dangerous for a Muggle." She glanced up at him, confused. "A non-magical person, forgive me." He kissed the top of her tousled hair. "You have to stay here."  
  
"And you'll come back." It wasn't a question, it was a statement, a few degrees shy of an order.  
  
There was no need to worry her now with the impossibilities of the situation. "I'll come back to you."  
  
"Good," she whispered into his chest. "I love you."  
  
His breath caught in his chest as the realization dawned on him. He would not be married to her tomorrow. He would be returning to Hogwarts to face the Dark Lord again. And this time, Dumbledore would not be on their side.   
  
He cupped her chin in his hand and brought her face up to his. "I love you," he answered back. "Do not ever forget that, no matter what happens." He reached for the Potions book in the trunk and tore off a corner. He took the quill that lay between the pages and scribbled something on the scrap of paper before pressing it into her hand. "If you ever need anything, or if you are ever in trouble... come here."  
  
"Alright," she responded softly, her hand tangled in his hair as she pulled him closer for one long, last kiss.  
  
Once her lips left his, he pointed his wand at himself, whispering, "Apparo."  
  
She was left holding nothing but the flowers, the petals now damp with her tears.  
  
END CHAPTER THREE 


	5. Chapter Four

Chapter Four  
  
Author's Note: Well, here's another chapter. I still am not exactly loving this story, but it's getting a bit better... kindof. I still have yet to figure out where I'm going with it. We'll all find out together, won't we? :-)  
  
***  
  
Snape Apparated in the woods outside Hogwarts, just beyond the reach of the Anti-Apparation Wards. After taking a moment to gather his former Slytherin mannerisms about himself like the cloak he wore, he started towards the building, trudging through the ankle-deep layer of snow that had already accumulated on the ground. More thick flakes fluttered down from the sky above, littering his body with unwelcome dampness.  
  
His trek gave him much needed time to think. What the hell was he doing here? Simply because his Mark had burned didn't mean that he needed to return to Hogwarts. No one had called him *there.* Merlin knows he was probably not even wanted there. Not that he ever had been.  
  
But he still felt drawn to the place, for all the effort he had put into avoiding it. He hated irony.  
  
It was hard to ignore the stares that followed his tall frame as he whisked his way through the halls to the headmaster's office. Most of the students from three years ago were still here and all recognized him. Whispered comments and questions floated around him, as did some pointed glares.  
  
He was stopped just outside his destination by a familiar soft voice. "Severus."  
  
He whirled on his heel to face the speaker. The man wore the same tattered robes he always had, though his hair had greyed a bit more since they had parted. He scowled. This was not exactly the person that he had hoped to find. "Lupin."  
  
The werewolf smiled mundanely. "You've returned as well, Severus?"  
  
"Only briefly," he snapped. "I only wish, for the good of Hogwarts, that the same could be said about yourself?"  
  
The smile twitched a bit. "Sadly, no. I've been here for the past two years."  
  
"Pity no better substitute can be found for a monster like yourself."  
  
Remus' pale eyes hardened. "Pity you cannot get past childish grudges in times like these, Severus. There are enough troubles without our adding to it."  
  
Any biting comment evaporated. "You are aware of..."  
  
"His return? Yes." There was... something in his tone that caused Snape to shudder. Something was wrong.  
  
"I must speak to the headmaster immediately."  
  
Something unreadable passed across Lupin's face, and Severus resisted the urge to forcibly shake the werewolf. Finally, he spoke. "Come with me." He turned to the entrance. "Moon's glow."  
  
Snape sneered. "Never one to hide the obvious, were you Lupin." He didn't respond, merely walked silently up the stairs, leaving Snape to follow and to wonder why Lupin had chosen the password.  
  
"Take a seat," Remus said blandly, himself settling down behind the desk.  
  
"I told you, Lupin," he said annoyedly. "I must speak with the headmaster."  
  
Remus pressed a hand to his forehead. "Can you never cease to speak? Or do you simply enjoy hearing your own voice?" Snape was taken aback. He had never imagined the werewolf being so curt with anyone. That was a comment that was much more likely to spew from his own mouth. He fell silent. "I do not know where you have been for the past three years, but as for myself, I have been doing my damnedest to help, to fight. You can't simply breeze in here and expect to take charge, just because you used to frighten people into doing your will three years ago."  
  
The words took effect. "I apologize."  
  
Remus almost smiled. "Those are two words I never thought I'd hear you say. Now, I suppose you are a bit... behind the times. After the last war, Minerva took the role as Headmaster... or Headmistress, if you prefer. Things appeared to be settling down, as students dealt with their losses and finished their terms. We found a new Potions professor, of course, as well as someone new to teach Transfigurations. And... everything continued as it should."  
  
"Until...?"  
  
"Yes, until. Until last week." He hesitated, leaving the words to hang ominously in the air. "Minerva was... taken... last week Tuesday."  
  
Snape felt his breath hitch at the words. Taken. He swallowed hard, concentrating on forcing his voice not to quaver and trying to ignore the acrid bile that rose in his throat. "Death Eaters, I presume."  
  
"Correct."  
  
"How?"  
  
"Does it matter?" Remus looked more dismal than Severus had ever seen him.  
  
"I suppose not."  
  
They fell into dreary silence. Minerva... taken. Most likely dead. His black eyes fell on the portrait of Albus Dumbledore that hung directly above the desk. The old man's eyes were still twinkling as ever, their mirth captured for all time. For a moment, he was lost in the past, hearing the old headmaster ramble on childishly about candy and socks. Snape would give anything to be able to leave a pair of the desired clothing items lying on the desk for Dumbledore. But it would be pointless now.  
  
"May I ask why you are here, Severus?"  
  
Snape continued to examine the moving portrait. "I was called."  
  
The meaning of the words evaded Lupin for a few moments. "I certainly do not recall summoning you here, Sever... oh." The last word was said with dawning realization. "You mean..."  
  
"Voldemort called me, yes."  
  
Lupin stared at him. Voldemort knew that Snape was a traitor. If he hadn't known before the war, he certainly knew afterwards. So why would he call him? "But... why?"  
  
"Why not? He captured the Headmistress of Hogwarts, why not bring along the traitor and have a bit of fun with them?" He smiled twistedly. "Two birds with one stone, Lupin. More efficient."  
  
"Did he really think you would come back?"  
  
Snape raised his shoulders slightly in a semblance of a shrug. "I suppose it was worth a try, to see if I would come crawling back to grovel at his feet. However," he continued, "I am not that idiotic, even if I have been living among Muggles for three years."  
  
Remus tilted his head to the side to regard Snape. "Funny, I can't quite picture you as a Muggle."  
  
His lips twitched, as if they ached to smile, but he remained in control. "Neither can I, Lupin."  
  
The other wizard smiled, though it was a strained one. "So what do we do now?"  
  
Severus cocked an eyebrow. "I thought you made it clear that I was not to... how did you so eloquently put it... 'just breeze in here and expect to take charge'?"  
  
"Well, if you'd prefer, you could return to your Muggle friends. I'm certain that they all miss you greatly, providing your charming personality hasn't changed since your years here."  
  
He thought, painfully, of Alexia, and a stab of regret stung his heart. "Grown bitter, have we Lupin? Did someone slip something foul-tasting in your wolfsbane?"  
  
"Actually, Severus, our new Potions professor isn't nearly as skilled as you were in taking away the tang of that horrid concoction. I was wondering... if you did decide to stay, if you would be willing to take over the responsibility again?"  
  
Snape longed to refuse, to say that he'd rather watch Lupin gag on the substance, but then he caught the gaze of the portrait-Dumbledore and sighed. One last favor for the old man. "If I must," he grudgingly conceded.  
  
Somehow, he had a feeling that buying socks would have been much, much simpler.  
  
END CHAPTER FOUR 


	6. Chapter Five

Chapter Five  
  
Author's Note: Well, I'm liking this story more and more as I get back into writing stuff in the wizarding world. Writing Muggle Snape was a bit... odd... to say the least. Like several others had mentioned, I'd never thought of Snape as being a Muggle either. But I digress. On with the story! I like this chapter, dark though it is.  
  
***  
  
The tabby huddled in the corner of the dirty, dank cage, licking at an oozing cut on her lick. Her once-bright eyes, now dulled by pain, stared out from behind the bars with a vacant look. It had been a week that she had remained in the cage, a week that she had been tortured by all means possible. A week... Merlin, it had seemed like months. She didn't know how much longer she could go on, or would even want to go on.  
  
A beady-eyed rat snuffled towards her, smelling the blood that clung to her fur like a deadly perfume. She tensed, watching the rodent carefully, kneading her ragged claws into the concrete.  
  
It came brazenly closer. She subconsciously licked her lips, becoming acutely aware of the gnawing hunger that tore at her empty stomach. The rat padded a few steps closer, and she pounced, ignoring the screaming in her limbs. Her sharp, broken claws dug into sinewy flesh and she stepped down hard on the creature's neck, breaking it instantly.  
  
Weakly, she drug her prey back into the corner, where she gingerly began to eat, forcing herself to swallow the chokingly raw meat.  
  
Before she had gotten far, the door outside her small cage swung open. Her eyes widened, the hairs along her spine standing straight up. Him.  
  
A hooded figure slunk into the room flanked by Death Eaters, his red eyes glowing from within the confines of the robe. "Having a little snack, my dear?" he sneered. "Looks delicious." He bent and slid a bony hand inside the cage to grab the dead rat. She hissed and swiped her paw at him, cutting four slashes across the back of his hand.  
  
He hissed angrily, though his was more serpentine than feline, as thick black blood oozed from the injuries. With the hiss came a curse. "Crucio!"  
  
The cat yeowled and spasmed in pain, clawing at the ground until her nails splintered further and bled. Blood ran from her nose and mouth where she had gnashed her teeth. The hooded figure chuckled at the display and tossed the dead rat into the far corner of the room. Once the spell ran its course, the creature collapsed weakly to the ground, her fur soaked in blood and her limbs splayed almost bonelessly out.  
  
"Learned your lesson, my pet?" he said in a soft, dangerous voice. "What is it that those ridiculous Muggles say... 'don't bite the hand that feeds you.' You should really know better, Minerva. Your antics are nothing better than pathetic attempts at bravado. You should know as well as any other that bravery never got anyone anywhere, including that fool Dumbledore."  
  
The cat, none other than Minerva McGonagall, stirred slightly at the words, a light flickering in her dull eyes.  
  
"He died for that Potter boy, which is, I'm told, considered to be very brave. But what did his bravery accomplish? He couldn't kill me. I'm more powerful than he could have ever dreamed to be. All he did was delay the inevitable, sate the minds of the pathetic fools who believed that I was finally defeated. They were wrong, weren't they, my pet?"   
  
The sickly pale corners of his mouth turned up, revealing sharp, yellowed teeth. "Nothing to say?" he asked, smirking. "Well, then, I'll leave you with your thoughts. Perhaps when I come back you'll have a little visitor." He bent down again, reaching inside to grasp her by the scruff of her neck, raising her to eye-level. Too weak to do anything but hang from his painful grip, she stared back at him, into his crazed red-and-green eyes. "Wouldn't that be nice?"  
  
With a laugh, he flung her against the bars of her cage and left the room in a whirlwind of darkness.  
  
***  
  
Severus knocked on Lupin's door once before entering, the steaming goblet of wolfsbane clutched in his hand. The werewolf sat on a dilapidated chair in front of his fireplace, simply staring into the flames. He seemed hardly to notice that Snape had come in. He cleared his throat. "Any news?"  
  
Remus stirred, as if just brought out of a reverie, and glanced at Snape with a sad shake of his head. "None. And that is precisely what worries me. We have no idea why he took her... what he's... done to her... nothing. And now I just don't know what to do." He buried his face in his hands, his fingers tangling in his gray-peppered hair.   
  
After a pause, Severus stepped closer and set the goblet on the armrest of his chair. "You can start by drinking this."  
  
Remus stared up, his amber eyes boring into Snape's black ones. "Do you still hate me, Severus?"  
  
He had not been expecting the question. "...excuse me?"  
  
"You heard me."  
  
"That is correct, Lupin, but I don't see why..."  
  
Remus sighed. "Does everything have to have a reason? I just want to know... do you still hate me?"  
  
Snape averted his eyes. "I can't hate you. We're supposed to be on the same side."  
  
Slowly, he nodded. "I thought as much. I suppose no amount of time away from me can change that grudge, can it?" He took the wolfsbane and quickly drank it, grimacing only slightly. "Not bad. A definite change from what I've been attempting to grow used to. Thank you, Severus."  
  
"You're welcome." He turned to go out, then paused. "I could go."  
  
The words were so soft that Remus almost didn't hear. He turned, his brow furrowed. "What did you say?"  
  
"I said, I could go."  
  
"To..."  
  
"Voldemort. He called me once... he'll do it again. And then I can go... find where they are."  
  
"No."  
  
Severus whirled. "It's our only chance, Lupin."  
  
"If by that you mean our only chance to lose you as well as Minerva, then yes, you are correct."  
  
"Lupin, you underestimate my abilities..." He had turned away from Voldemort's luring powers once, how dare he presume to say that he could not do it again...  
  
Remus shrugged. "Perhaps I do. Or perhaps you underestimate *his* power. He came back from the dead, Severus. Do you understand that? He was dead. Dead!"  
  
Snape stalked forward, his black hair falling across his eyes. "I understand perfectly, you fool. I saw him die. I saw them *both* die, dammit. Do you truly think that I would go back to the person... to the *thing* that killed Albus?"  
  
"No, I don't. But we don't know what he is capable of. And until we do, I am not sending you into his clutches. I don't care whether you hate me or not, I do not wish for your imminent death."  
  
Snape's mouth quirked slightly. "Thank God for small miracles." He sighed. "Very well, Lupin."  
  
"I'll see you tomorrow, Severus?"  
  
He paused at the door, taking with him the empty goblet and resigning himself to waiting. Always the endless, wretched waiting. "As usual."  
  
END CHAPTER FIVE 


	7. Chapter Six

Chapter Six  
  
Author's Note: I haven't been able to write this in a while, but my muse decided that she liked the story again, thankfully. I've finally got a good idea of where this is going. It only took how many chapters, right? Ah well, at least I've got it now.  
  
Storm's fics have inspired me to include several flashbacks in this particular chapter. Oh joy! *grin* I need sleep.  
  
***  
  
Three days had gone by. Three days that had been pure torture for Snape. He was constantly questioning himself, wondering if he should indeed be doing something to work towards Minerva's freedom. That was, of course, assuming that she was still alive.  
  
But for now, he would work under the belief, the desperate hope, that she was. And hope that he was right.  
  
Voldemort, as insane and evil as he was, must have a motive. There had to be some reason for taking Minerva instead of killing her instantly when he'd had the chance. There had to be a reason... but what?  
  
Was he going to ask for something, for an exchange of prisoners- Minerva for Harry Potter, perhaps...? No. The Dark Lord had given up on his crusade against the boy when it had failed the last time. Potter had not been the one to fell him, for the first time in ages. Dumbledore had. Perhaps he had even forgotten about the boy.  
  
Then what? Severus could not think of a single bloody thing that Voldemort could gain by taking her, besides throwing the school once more into turmoil. But it wasn't like that was an odd occurrence. The students were used to attacks and sudden deaths as if they were ordinary happenings. Sad, really, but true.  
  
So then WHAT?  
  
Frustrated, he flung the goblet he'd been drinking from across the room so had that the metal cracked. But he gained no satisfaction from the act, and turned away to glare into the fire, as if daring it to attempt to attempt to leap from the hearth to burn him and further ruin his life.  
  
He could have sworn that the flames died slightly under his cold gaze. But he didn't have much time to smile at the fact before a familiar burning coursed up his arm, consuming his entire body within seconds.  
  
He staggered with the pain but did not fall this time. His right hand clasped over the Mark, gripping the area tightly as if by doing so it would suppress the pain. It never did, of course. But habits die hard.  
  
The Mark. Voldemort. Burning. Death Eaters. Alexia. Minerva. Pain.  
  
Little half-phrases raced through his mind, flooding him with memories and regrets.   
  
// "Severus." The voice, with its usual coldness, stopped him in his tracks. He turned to face the Dark Lord, his eyes void of emotion.  
  
"Yes, my Lord?"  
  
"All is well?" He knew. He bloody well knew.  
  
It took all of his willpower not to turn and flee into the forest, to allow his actions to reveal the truth. Instead, he nodded once. "Very well."  
  
"As I'd hoped." Those icy green eyes met Snape's. "I would not wish to lose one of my most loyal followers, would I?" He knew. He had to know. The curse would come any moment now. He wondered if it were to be torture first, or immediate death. Most likely the former.  
  
"No, my Lord." He met the gaze evenly, even if internally he was cringing in utter fear.  
  
"Good." Voldemort stepped forwards to lay his hand on Severus' shoulder. The touch was as frigid as his eyes. "Remember always the Cause, Severus. Do not lose sight of what you joined me for, of what we fight for daily."  
  
The Cause? What bloody cause... what damned fight? All they did was murder. Senseless murder... not only men, but defenseless women and innocent children. And he had been a part of that. The knowledge disgusted him, physically sickened him.  
  
But he restrained his twisting stomach, forcing himself to respond. "Of course." Short, ridiculous answers, ones that he was sure were as transparent as glass.   
  
But Voldemort only nodded at him with a twisted smile then turned away to some other task. "Good night, Severus."  
  
For a moment, Snape could only stare at the dark wizard's back in disbelief. Then he turned and walked away with slow, steady steps... steps that gradually became jerky and hurried until he altered his pace to a jog, then a flat-out run. He ran until collapsing with exhaustion to the snow-covered ground, the flakes coating him with their pure whiteness- sharp contrast to his black hair, eyes, and robes.   
  
But the snow was a welcome change from the darkness that he had just left, had left forever. He wanted to grab great handfuls of the glittering flakes and use them to scrub clean his sins, to bury himself in the snow until none of his blackness showed. He wondered if there was enough snow in the world for that.  
  
Until then, he thought, let it snow. //  
  
So many good-byes... some more painful than others.  
  
// Albus Dumbledore was dead. He had watched at the life seemed out of him within a minute, had stood there and stared when he could have been doing something, anything. Not that he could have done anything, but to just stand there, until it was too late.  
  
He stood there while all around him people were crying. Harry Potter, tattered and torn from the war, dropped picturesquely to his knees, burying his face in Dumbledore's robes to cry. But tears wouldn't bring the headmaster back, any more than any of Snape's potions would have.  
  
So he simply watched as the world mourned, and when the last tear had fallen, Snape bent down to close his once-sparkling blue eyes, whispering, "Goodbye." //  
  
Next to Dumbledore, Severus most owed thanks to Minerva. She had never shunned him, even when all the others had. While he had been confined in Azkaban, she had come with Albus to visit him, to give support to him when he had been on the brink of insanity.  
  
He owed her so much. Serving as a professor had never, would never be enough to pay back either her or Dumbledore. Which was why leaving Hogwarts had been so horridly hard the first time.  
  
// McGonagall sighed, clasping her small, thin hands together. "I understand and accept your resignation." With those words, he turned and made his way to the door, his dark robes billowing behind him. "But where will you go?"  
  
He paused, glancing back at her. "I don't know yet."  
  
They maintained eye contact for a few seconds before she stood and turned away from him, gazing out the window. "You will find your way, Severus. You always have."  
  
"Thank you." The words were soft and low, but she heard them before the sound of the door closing covered them. //  
  
Still, none of the farewells had been nearly as difficult as his most recent. Leaving Alexia had been damn near impossible, coupled with the knowledge that he might never return.  
  
And yet, he had promised. An empty promise, he knew, but still, a promise that he was bloody well determined to keep.   
  
// I have to go back. Not to him... but to Hogwarts."  
  
Her voice was timid now, more so than he had ever heard it. "Tonight." He nodded regretfully. "Can I come with you?"  
  
He drew her close, wrapping her thin frame in his warmth. "No, Alexia. It's far too dangerous for a Muggle." She glanced up at him, confused. "A non-magical person, forgive me." He kissed the top of her tousled hair. "You have to stay here."  
  
"And you'll come back." It wasn't a question, it was a statement, a few degrees shy of an order.  
  
There was no need to worry her now with the impossibilities of the situation. "I'll come back to you."  
  
"Good," she whispered into his chest. "I love you."  
  
He cupped her chin in his hand and brought her face up to his. "I love you," he answered back. "Do not ever forget that, no matter what happens." He reached for the Potions book in the trunk and tore off a corner. He took the quill that lay between the pages and scribbled something on the scrap of paper before pressing it into her hand. "If you ever need anything, or if you are ever in trouble... come here."  
  
"Alright," she responded softly, her hand tangled in his hair as she pulled him closer for one long, last kiss.  
  
Once her lips left his, he pointed his wand at himself, whispering, "Apparo." //  
  
Merlin... so many good-byes. He hated good-byes. So this time, this time when he left, when he followed the fading burning on his arm, he would not say goodbye.  
  
END CHAPTER SIX 


End file.
